Zugzwang
by HideousBlob
Summary: So you thought you were alone on a burning space station, right? You were going to do the responsible thing, you know, and leave, leave in the big whooshy box the way you do, since you can't really help here, everyone's gone now or… or died, but suddenly there's a very loud BANG and there it is right behind you. A Dalek. It's fallen over and it can't get up. It looks ridiculous.
1. Fire

A/N: This is a short experiment which will probably last for about five chapters or less.

* * *

zugzwang - A situation where every possible move or decision is a bad one, or one that will result in damage or loss -

* * *

Behind- there is fire. It burns. It is burning the last of the station.

Shields are down and now fire is a danger. Death is not to be feared. Nothing is to be feared. Fear is a weakness. Death is counter-productive. Death is to be avoided. Just not feared. So behind me is death. Ahead, the (oncoming storm)

the (destroyer of worlds)

the (the web will cease screaming! I am aware that is the Doctor. I am in immediate danger. I must plan a strategy.)

Has he seen? He has not seen. He is not aware of my presence. He is doing something to the TARDIS and has not seen me.

Ahead of me is the Doctor and behind there is fire. I will not survive this day.

The others see me and they see him. The screams go through the great Dalek mind like a wave. The others take up the cry from me and pass it along until it reaches every Commander. They call for me to exterminate but my weapons systems are offline. If they were not I would have exterminated the Doctor on sight. My mental functions are NOT impaired.

Still, the cry goes up. EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINATE THE DOCTOR.

I WANT TO EXTERMINATE THE DOCTOR. I CANNOT EXTERMINATE HIM.

The web sees that I can do nothing and they leave me. They do not want to watch the Doctor escape while a Dalek soldier is lost. The doctor enters his TARDIS and the door is open. I am surrounded by fire. Inside the TARDIS there is no fire. There is only the Doctor.

I turn. There will be flames. I do not yet see them but they are there. My shields are non-functional. My shell is thick. The Doctor will not be allowed the honor of exterminating me. I will survive in the fire or I will perish in it. There is a hole in the floor. I did not see it. I have stumbled on it. I have fallen. I am on my side.

Elevate is non-functional I cannot get up. There was a loud noise when I fell of my shell striking the floor I cannot get up.

Manipulator arm insufficient to return shell to upright position I cannot get up. Footsteps approach. It is the Doctor. He will destroy me unless today is a day he has chosen to pretend he does not kill. Then he will allow the fire to kill me and pretend he has not killed me.

"What?"

He comes closer.

"Oi!"

He crouches down and looks directly into my eye. I will look into his face. I am not afraid. "What are you doing here?"

I have hidden in the abandoned places of the space station for years attempting to rebuild. How long has the Doctor been here? He leaves fire wherever he goes. Is the burning of this place the doing of the Doctor? "No, really," he says. "Why are you here?"

I, a foot soldier, am being interrogated by the greatest enemy of the Daleks. Were all Daleks not superior to all Time Lords I might deign to consider this an honor.

"Did you fall over?" he asked.

He is not in reach of the manipulator arm if he were to lean in closer I could still exterminate him. Maybe he will lean in. He laughs. It is bitter. "Great Dalek solider, eh? Superior race, right? You've fallen and you can't get up. Stuck like a turtle, a big ugly turtle."

* * *

So you thought you were alone on a burning space station, right? Just this big, burning… ball of death and this is pretty much the only safe place left, and you were going to do the responsible thing, you know, and leave, leave in the big whooshy box the way you do, since you can't really help here, everyone's gone now or…or died, but suddenly there's a very loud BANG and there it is right behind you. A Dalek. It's fallen over and it can't get up. It's flailing. It looks absolutely ludicrous. You need to find out what it's doing here but the problem is you might burn to death if you do that. But not just yet, you suppose. Oh, you can smell the smoke now- it's burning in your throat and that's probably not the best thing, but the cells will regenerate- but you're not in immediate danger yet. It's pleasantly warm in here, really.

You stand and watch the big ugly thing scream and wiggle its arms. It hasn't shot you, so it must be damaged.

"Answer me," you say, flicking out your sonic screwdriver. "I'm the Doctor. The Oncoming Storm. When I ask you a question, you answer!"

Sometimes shouting at things works and sometimes it doesn't. This one here refuses to speak.

You don't see any more of them. "All alone, then? Dalek friends up and left? Imagine, the most hateful beings in the universe abandoning one of their own. What a surprise." You look up, and down the hall the flames are coming so you really can't stay.

The thing's just laying on its side. It's burnt and melted in loads of places and oh, that's why it's not shot at you, its weapon arm's snapped off. "Even a Dalekanium shell will heat up and fry the creature inside if it's left in a fire long enough. What's stopping me leaving you here if you don't co-operate?" Here's the thing, though, you have no intention of saving it whether it co-operates or not, and it likely knows you don't. It goes dead still and its indicator lights flash, its eye stalk focusing on your face with a whir. It's targeting you. It can't shoot, of course, it's only targeting you out of a murderous compulsion. "Talk to me!"

It doesn't. Oh, but it looks pathetic sitting there like an overturned beetle. Maybe you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet listening to the soles of your shoes squeak on the floor and reflecting that generally, if you find an injured creature near a fire you pull it away. (Also you apparently start to think in the second person when you've been alone too long, better keep an eye on that.)

But not a Dalek. No, never a Dalek- never help a Dalek- they're evil.

Of course, you do have to know why this one is here and where its 'friends' are because Daleks are like ant infestations, there's hardly ever just one. The one time you came across a lone Dalek, it killed loads of people all on its own, too.

This one's badly damaged. You haven't seen anything on this station (or ex-station, now) that could do this to a Dalek, so you suppose you should really find out about that, too.

You sigh. It's getting hot in here and the flames are getting closer and your animal "run from the fire" instincts (yes, even Time Lords have them, they do still burn if you light them up after all) are starting up. Could you even move the thing if you tried? It's larger than you are. You could try to materialize the TARDIS around it, but frankly, that would be an insult to her, and she would likely refuse. She might even refuse to take the Dalek if you manage to drag it over to her. Oh, right- and if you get too close to it it'll kill you with its remaining manipulator arm.

So what now?

Of course, you think of the perfect solution because you're the Doctor. And you are brilliant.

You point your sonic screwdriver at the Dalek. It doesn't like that at all.

Too bad.

* * *

My vision is impaired!

I cannot see!

All is dark!

I cannot move. It is dark. I cannot see.

Controls are not working I cannot move. All is dark.

* * *

The Dalek is screaming. You have never heard a noise more sheerly grating than the scream of a Dalek. They make the Cybermen sound positively pleasant.

* * *

The current protocols concerning the Doctor are 1. EXTERMINATE 2. RETREAT 3. NEGOTIATE

"Why are YOU here, Doctor?" I ask.

"Oh, no," he says. "You don't get to ask the questions. You're finished."

If I cannot destroy the Doctor and I cannot escape the Doctor and I have nothing to negotiate then I will irritate him!

"Why are you here?" I cannot see him. I cannot see what the Doctor is doing.

He says nothing. I hear the sonic screwdriver and my shell vibrates.

"AaAaAaAaA," I cry.

The Doctor is armed. I am not armed. The Doctor cheats!

He does not stop.

"AaAaAaAaAaA-"

* * *

It won't stop screaming. You wonder if you're hurting it. Too bad for it if you are. Can't be helped.

* * *

I cannot move. I cannot see. I am in a small space. My shell is not functioning. The space is small. I cannot see.  
I cannot...

CRITICAL SHELL MALFUNCTION!


	2. Vermin

A/N: Usually I wait at least a week between posting chapters, but the prologue was rather brief.

* * *

You have separated the Dalek from its shell without triggering any of the really nasty passive defense mechanisms you found inside such as the poison mist or the virus mist or the automatic electrocution. There were some even nastier things, but they were too damaged to function before you turned up.

You don't think anyone else has accomplished this, at least not since the last round of Dalek shell upgrades. You did some really clever and tricky things- and without letting your skin contact the Dalekanium, so it couldn't use your Time Vortex energy to repair itself. You'd love to be able to explain what you did to someone, but there's no one around but yourself and the TARDIS at the moment, and both of you already know how clever you are. Well, you could talk to the Dalek but you doubt it'd be properly impressed. Besides, it's sedated and might not be able to hear you in the life-support tank you put it in anyway.

And if it could hear you and understand and appreciate your cleverness, its response would likely not be the admiration you deserve so much as a demand for the return of its shell...

In any case, you were examining the shell and you found the absolute Dalek-interrogator's jackpot. It has a video log of everything seen by the eye stalk for quite a long time. A sort of "black box" for Daleks or something of the sort.

You play the footage. You're not interested in watching too much of this monster's life if you can help it (Daleks have generally boring lives anyway, when they're not committing genocide, that's what comes of no emotion), so you rewind the footage and watch it in chunks starting from a few hours ago.

The Dalek doesn't seem to have intended to be on that space station at all. Before it realized the place was burning, it was hiding in the basement, mostly sitting in the dark, silent and immobile. You watch a janitor walk right past it without noticing. Just part of the machinery…part of the machinery that will become deadly if you brush up against its remaining arm.

When it was confident of not being discovered, apparently it chased rats.

The rats must have come in on Earth ships. You watch the Dalek corner one and plunger it into a dried-up husk. Even a badly damaged Dalek has nothing to fear from a rat. A rat can't gnaw through a foot of metal. A rat can't defend itself against a Dalek.

You reach up and rub the sides of your jaw. (They feel bristly- you don't remember to shave every morning when there's no human on the TARDIS living according to a 24-hour schedule. Time feels different for you.)

You speed up the video. In the course of three weeks, this thing chased down and killed twenty rats.

First, that's loads of rats, the space station had quite a vermin problem. You suppose there's an argument to be made that the human population was benefiting from having a Dalek in the basement, but you won't make that argument.

Second, it's so murderous, it has such a compulsion to kill, that even dumb animals are fair game.

It seems to have been hiding there for weeks. No, months. No, can that be possible?

The hair on the back of your neck stands up as the footage keeps racing onward. It's been there years. In the dark, alone, in silence.

Sometimes it screamed at the rats as if they were enemy soldiers. Drew out the chase longer than necessary.

If it has any capacity for boredom it must have been going insane, and of course it only knows how to do one thing...

You wonder if it's gone mad. Well, mad by the standards of a Dalek. By your standards they're all mad.

All those humans living and working on that space station, never knowing about the thing hiding in their midst...

You rewind farther back. You just want to know how it got there and how it got damaged.

Here you go. Here it is on a ship with other Daleks. Not a whole army of Daleks, not an invading force, not yet anyway- it's a scouting party or something of the sort. You count six of them total.

They trundle about, working the ship's controls and being dull. Not much for conversation, Daleks. If they were, you doubt you'd really like hearing what they'd have to say.

All right, now the Daleks are under red alert. They're bustling about and screaming.

Something strikes their ship, something massive. One of the Daleks falls over and hovers itself back to an upright position. Another shoots at nothing at all and is rammed into by another Dalek. You can't tell if it slipped or if that was a flying tackle to stop the other one blasting holes in things or if it's just confused and a bit stupid.

Something tears open the wall of the ship. Three Daleks are sucked through the jagged hole. The other three blast away, attacking whatever's through that hole- with no regard for their mates who might be just outside, of course.

Yellow eyes appear through the hole. Giant, enormous black claws flick through. Two Daleks explode in sparks and flashes of light and "your" Dalek flies back and hits the wall, buzzing out a scream. It shoots at the big shadowy black thing.

The shadowy black thing took a direct hit but doesn't seem more than irritated. It shouts and bats at the Dalek. Sparks fly. Something in the ship goes boom and the Dalek is sent wheeling through space, screaming and screaming. You turn down the volume and fast forward to find the Dalek just drifting until it suctions itself onto a passing ship, riding it like a barnacle until it winds up on that station.

Well, so that's what happened. It was going along its merry way to wreak havoc and something wreaked havoc on it instead. Something powerful enough to tear open a Dalek ship, something powerful enough to kill two Daleks and wound a third with one blow, and something you have never seen before.

It could be hunting the Daleks, in which case, you'll allow that, or it could be just attacking random travelers in which case you'll have to do something.

The footage doesn't go back far enough to explain what the scouting party was for in the first place. You'll just have to ask nicely.

You set the TARDIS to drift about between dimensions where you can sort this out without hazy black whatever-it-ises getting at you. The controls are just the faintest bit resistant to your touch. The TARDIS doesn't like carrying a Dalek around any more than you do. What's more, she knows you know she doesn't like it, and she knows you brought it aboard anyway. You stroke the console and whisper sweet nothings in apology but she'll have none of it.

* * *

I am imprisoned.

I am floating in a life-sustaining solution within a container. My tentacles are pressed against the glass on all sides. My shell has been taken. There is pain in my tentacles. They do not usually move freely. The muscles are not used to this kind of movement.

I see a humanoid life form through the glass. I cannot see well through the solution. Is it the Doctor?

He speaks. I cannot hear what he is saying through the solution. He stops speaking.

If he wishes to interrogate me he must remove me from the tank. When he does so I will strangle him with my own limbs.

I am now within my shell. The Doctor has used a teleport. I was not given the chance to exterminate him.

It is dark.

"All right," the Doctor says. "I know you were on a ship and you were attacked. Where were you and your pals going?"

The Doctor knows what has happened. Error reel has been tampered with. The Doctor has viewed Dalek secrets!

It is dark!

"I cannot see!"

"Yeah, you'll find I made some modifications to your little suit. What was your mission? I know you wouldn't be out without some kind of murderous assignment, now what was it?"

The Doctor has received Dalek secrets through me. I will be placed on trial for treason.

It is dark!

"My vision is impaired!"

The Doctor sighs. I hear the sonic screwdriver. My vision is no longer impaired. I see the Doctor.

"Manipulator arm does not function! You have tampered with my shell!" I am also chained and cannot move forward. I am in the control room of the TARDIS. I am aboard the Doctor's TARDIS.

"Right, yes," says the Doctor. "I wasn't in the mood to have you trying to kill me the whole time we're talking, now what was your mission?"

I will not tell the Doctor.

The Doctor's eyebrows are pulled down towards the middle. His teeth are clenched. These are signs of anger. "Tell me exactly what happened. Where you were going, what you were planning to do, and why you were planning to do it!"

"I will tell the Doctor nothing!"

"Then I'll torture you." He pulls out the sonic screwdriver. "I mean it."

Alert. Torture. Torture is not desirable.

Torture is not to be feared. I am a Dalek. I do not fear.

Analysis of Doctor's past behavior. "The Doctor does not torture. It is against your beliefs."

"Oh, I don't torture?" He tosses the screwdriver and catches it. This is reckless behavior that may result in the destruction of the screwdriver. He is looking directly into my eye. His eyes are wide and his teeth are showing. "Are you sure? Are you really sure?" He is leaning towards me. The space between us is lessened. He is attempting to threaten me with his physical indicators.

"I will tell the Doctor nothing!" His lip curls very briefly. It is a microexpression. The Doctor feels 'contempt'. He may be contemptuous of the subject of torture. He is known to be contemptuous of Daleks.

"Then I'll torture you. I mean it. I know you were planning on killing people, whatever you were doing, and I have to know."

"How will you torture me?"

The Doctor does not reply promptly. His eyes dart downward and towards the left.

Analysis: "The Doctor does not torture for information! This is a bluff!"

"All right, all right," the Doctor says. He leans in closer to me and makes direct eye contact. "But make no mistake, if I have to hurt you, if I really have to, I will. I absolutely will, Dalek."

"Daleks fear no pain!"

He backs up and begins to pace. "So the stick won't work, how about the carrot? Hrm. I'm not keen on bribing a Dalek. Doubt I have anything you'd want anyway. Daleks don't use money- well, even if they did, I don't generally have money. I don't use money either. So no money, that won't work, and last I knew Daleks don't like sweets." His lip curls. This is an open expression of 'disgust'. "I could let you chase rats, I suppose."

He knows. He has viewed the footage. This is a crime. I cannot currently contact the Pathweb. When I am in contact I will update the list of the crimes of the Doctor. I will also convey the details of the inside of the TARDIS. I will look for weaknesses to report.

"I request safe return to Skaro," I say.

The Doctor snorts. "Oh, sure, you'd love that, me taking you to Skaro. The other Daleks would take me apart and you'd get to be the big hero who brought me there."

"Correct!"

"Not happening, sorry."

"I will answer your questions only in return for my freedom."

"Yeah, sure." The Doctor continues to pace. "So how do I get it to talk?" He runs his fingers through his hair. "I need it to talk."

"Where is your companion?"

He turns and looks at me. "What?"

"The Doctor travels with a human companion. Where is she?"

Blood drains from the Doctor's face. His voice is soft. "Do not ever cross that line again."

Signs indicate that I have caused the Doctor emotional pain. "I was only asking a question. I am on the TARDIS. Who else is on the TARDIS?" Daleks are above becoming pained and irrational in response to rational questioning.

He is very close again. "You're not asking the questions here. I am."

He cannot prevent me from asking questions. "Where are you taking me? What are your plans? What will you do when you are finished with me? Will you return me to the site of the fire?"

He shakes his head. "All right, let's try this. If you're not going to be polite with me, I'm not even going to speak to you."

The Doctor goes to the Tardis controls.

I watch. "I observe."

He looks at me.

"I observe the functions of the TARDIS," I say.

"Oh, I'm not piloting her anywhere right now. Observe me as much as you'd like." He crouches down and removes something from under the console. It is some sort of headgear. It is attached to a flat electronic device. He shakes the device at me and bares his teeth in what is classified as a 'smile'. "CD player. Love the classics."

He puts a shiny disk into the device and puts on the headgear. He removes some sort of fruit from his pocket and peels it. He is now eating the fruit and bobbing his head. I hear faint music coming from the device.

"This is an offense," I say.

He cocks his head. "HM? DID YOU SAY SOMETHING?"

I say nothing. This is a new ploy by the Doctor.

The Doctor finishes his fruit. He pulls out a tin and takes out a bit of food and eats that.

"This is impolite," I say.

"Hm?" He takes off his headset. "Sorry?"

"It is proper for a host to offer to share food," I say.

"Oh! Did you want a biscuit?"

No. I do not desire to share the Doctor's food.

The Doctor approaches. He is holding a piece of food. "Dalek wants a biscuit?"

"No."

"Hm?"

"No."

"No biscuit?"

"I do not want a biscuit!"

"All right, then." He puts it back in the tin. "Is there any particular reason why you care if I'm being rude?"

"You are not treating the Daleks with respect."

He shrugs. "I only see one Dalek. And he's not treating me with respect. Won't even answer a simple question."

The Doctor is not disconcerted. This tactic has failed.

"I will not betray the Daleks," I tell him.

"Will you at least tell me what that smoky thing was?"

"I do not know."

"Do you really not know or are you still being difficult?"

"I do not know."

He leans back and tilts his head. "That thing was pretty powerful."

"It damaged me."

"Oh yes."

"It destroyed our craft."

"Yes, killed your mates, too. I'd say you probably want to know what it was more than I do, even."

This is correct. "Do you suggest an alliance?"

The whites of his eyes are visible all around his pupils. The Doctor is surprised. "No! No, no. No." He has become pale. "Alliance with a Dalek? Eugh!" He turns away. He touches his face. I do not know what this gesture conveys. "What would you say if I had asked you to join up?"

I shake. The chains rattle. "I would not accept! The Doctor is enemy! Exterminate! Exterminate!"

I cannot exterminate, gun does not function!

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He folds his arms across his chest. This gesture is defensive. "Alliance with a Dalek- can you imagine? You won't even answer a simple question."

"I would not associate with the Doctor!" I pull on the chains. "Release me! Release me!"

"No."

"Exterminate!"

The Doctor says nothing.

I cannot break free. I stop resisting.

"All right," he says. "I suppose I'll just have to go to the area of space where you met the creature and look for it… get this all over with..."

* * *

The Dalek's sulking, you think. You watch it from the corner of your eye as you coax the TARDIS along- she's still not pleased with you.

It's turned all its lights off and is not looking at you. Very pointedly not looking at you, you think, but you suppose you could be imagining that. The part you're seeing is just a machine, after all.

Now that you're brought the Dalek on board and found out most of what you wanted to know, you're forced to admit that you don't know what you'll do with it when this is finished.  
You could open the shell and eject the life-form inside into space for a relatively merciful end, but then you'd be a murderer. It's completely defenseless. It's a Dalek, but it's alive and it can't fight back…but it's also a Dalek. Is there anywhere, anywhere in the universe you can set a Dalek free without it killing innocent people? If you set it free to inflict pain and killing, aren't you a murderer that way?

What sort of quality of life can a Dalek expect anyway? Any Dalek is a mutated creature with no ability to feel happiness or love or possibly even the poor seconds of contentment or satisfaction. You're not at all certain they're capable of ever feeling anything pleasant. They're kept in metal containers away from contact with other lifeforms, away from fresh air and sunlight. And this one's in tatters. You could fix it, but then you'd just turn it back into a weapon. Oh, of course you wouldn't restore its weaponry, but it could repair itself eventually if you gave it back its motility.

You could find an abandoned spot without people, without anything the Dalek can harm, and turn it loose. Give it space to reflect on its evil life. There has to be somewhere in the universe you can put it without it escaping or contacting other Daleks for rescue.

You can't think of a place offhand, however. It's much harder than most people realize to find a place with absolutely no life and no potential of life finding it.

You remember the rats.

You clear your throat. "Got another question for you, Dalek."

"I will not answer," it drones.

"You haven't even heard it yet!"

"I will not answer the questions of the Doctor!"

It's not just sulking, it's having a tantrum. You're not likely to get answers out of it, but it's worth a try, you suppose. If you don't get anywhere you'll try again when it's done with its fit. "Why rats?"

"The rats were there."

"And you just killed them because they were there and alive, is that it?"

It quivers in pique. "They were there!"

"Thanks for elaborating!"

"I had to have fuel! There was no Vortex energy for fuel!"

"You..." Your jaw drops. You recall how the killed rats looked all dried-up. "You... ate the rats?"

It won't look at you. You wonder if Daleks have a concept of shame.

Well…lots of creatures hunt for food… there's nothing wrong with hunting for food… you suppose you contribute to the death of an animal whenever you buy a hot dog. But…

It is alive, it's not out of the question that it might need to feed on something. But...

You suppose it's better than senselessly gunning down rats for fun, but…

You just weren't expecting that!

"What about the fuel powering the space station?"

The Dalek sounds as if it would be muttering if it could lower its voice. You wonder again about the shame thing. "Not compatible."

"So you ate the rats?"

"Yes!"

"Huh. You had to be sending distress calls. Why didn't anyone come for you?"

"It was deemed too much risk," it says. "I am only one!"

"They didn't want to run into Smokey on the account of just one solider, is that right?"

"Yes! The risk was deemed greater than the reward!"

"Of course it was." You rub your chin. It's still prickly. You should shave. "Even if it wasn't dangerous to go get you, you're not fighting fit. In the time it would take to patch your container up, they could just make a new one. And you're all clones, so why just make you a new shell? Why not make a new you while they're at it?" That's what comes of destroying the concept of the individual.

"Correct, Doctor," it says, as if there's nothing wrong with how replaceable it is.

So this Dalek is completely alone. It's damaged and helpless and has resorted to hunting vermin to stay alive. It's also expressed a strong desire to kill you. And its life is completely in your hands.

You've had harder choices to make, you suppose...


	3. Smokey

You find the wreckage of the Dalek saucer. At the point in time you find it, it's been there about a year, drifting. This will be tricky. There aren't any traces left a year later that could lead you to the black shadow thing. You'll have to go back to an earlier point where you can find and track the creature without coming under attack yourself- if it can do this to a Dalek ship, you don't want to think about what could happen to the TARDIS. Also, you're risking a paradox by bringing this Dalek so close to its own timeline. If all that wasn't difficult enough, it's putting up a fuss.

"The TARDIS is charting an erratic course!" Its head and eye are swinging back and forth and it's rattling its chains. Its voice is a brittle warble. The TARDIS is charting an erratic course. She's really, truly displeased. You've tried cajoling her, you've tried explaining yourself and you've tried being firm, but while she's finally agreed to go along with you she apparently refuses to do it without comment.

There's no point even trying to get the Dalek to go along quietly. "The TARDIS is going to crash!" it bleats.

She heard that, she didn't like it, and she swerves with vicious intent. "She's upset!" you say. "She doesn't like you."

The Dalek stops fidgeting long enough to stare at you. "Whaat?"

It doesn't know? It's from a race of TARDIS-fighters and it does not know? Or is it being difficult? "The TARDIS is alive," you say. "She has a mind of her own and she doesn't like Daleks."

The Dalek stares at you for a minute and then goes back to its little panic attack. "The TARDIS is not flying correctly!"

You get that a lot lately. "Well, she's supposed to have six pilots!" Not that you have to explain yourself to a Dalek...

"I am able to co-pilot the TARDIS!"

You better not have heard what you think you just heard! "You bloody well won't! You'll keep your stinking hands off my TARDIS! You don't even have hands!"

It is really yanking on those chains. You hope they're in good and tight- you did your best. If that thing gets loose and rams into the control panel it could still do some damage. "The Doctor has inadequate control over the TARDIS!"

"I do not!" Somehow, the TARDIS is laughing at you right now. You're sure she is.

The Dalek rocks from side to side. It's worse than a human! The dips and lurches of the TARDIS aren't harming it any. They're not even a big deal. They'd be a fun ride for you if this wasn't such a delicate temporal situation. The Dalek's not having fun, of course. "The TARDIS will crash!" Dalek ships go through turbulence all the time. Do they yell every time? That must get old.

Although- the TARDIS is wobbling in the fourth dimension as well as the other three. You find it almost pleasant, but you're a Time Lord. Oh, Daleks may have some temporal capabilities, but probably not enough to be comfortable with fourth-dimension wibbly-wobbling.

You'll just have to tune it out...

You troll around a bit and can't find any trails worth following- just the glowing "don't go here" time paradox trail of the Dalek you have on board. You go a little farther back in time, then a little farther, and you reach as far back as you dare to go. The Dalek's stopped bellyaching and is just staring at everything, the way they do.

Oh, now, what's this? Here's a scattering of interesting particles. You collect some of them and run a scan. Hmm. You've never seen a structure like this before. You know some people who would be absolutely fascinated, but none of them are here...

"What are you doing?" You had very nearly forgotten about the Dalek. "I'm looking into this shadow thing, of course." Its eye whirs. You believe it's zooming in on you. "What have you discovered?"

"Chemical structure. Have you seen it before?"

It doesn't reply immediately, but when it does it simply says "No."

Right then. You're going to have to make some calls to some people who know stuff. They're not very likely to know more than you, but maybe someone's heard of this shadowy claw thing before. Of course if you do that in front of the Dalek it'll continue to stare and ask things at awkward moments. Is there anywhere you can sort of stow it away?

* * *

I am in a different room. There are seats in this room and a screen. I am chained to a seat. I face the screen. The Doctor has been using tricks. The TARDIS flew erratically. The Doctor has been making nonsensical remarks. He may be torturing me secretly in ways he finds acceptable.

There is a film playing. Is it propaganda? "What- is- this?"

I hear the voice of the Doctor. "It's a movie, you idiot! I'm being nice!"

"Daleks do not require entertainment!"

"Don't watch it, then!"

The movie is directly in my line of sight.

* * *

"Good, right, thanks anyway," you say to your last contact, who was very pleased to hear from you but of no help at all. You replace the phone and check on the surveillance footage of the Dalek. It wasn't keen on The Lion King, shouted bloody murder at Finding Nemo and had some very odd but enthusiastic complaints with Back to the Future. It's fallen silent now. Its eye stalk tracks the movements on the screen. This last film is almost finished. You wait politely for it to end, and then you head down to the movie room.

"Hello!" you say. "Enjoy that last production, did you? You were quiet for it, at least."

The Dalek turns to face you with a little hiccuping jerk of its mechanics and draws backwards along the floor. You suppose that even though it knows it's on the TARDIS your sudden appearance must frighten it to death, if it's capable of such a feeling. "It is the Doctor!" it announces.

You suspect that you were right and that 'it is the Doctor', uttered when both of you know full well that you're the Doctor, is Dalek for 'I jumped out of my casing when you turned up, warn me next time, will you?' But it's just a guess. "Yes, very observant," you say. "How was the movie?"

It just stares at you. You've seen loads and loads of aliens with all sorts of eyes, and some of them much odder eyes than that single blue lens, but nothing makes you feel all-over gross like the gaze of a Dalek. Because you know that even if it's momentarily thinking of a different subject, it will always come back around to planning how to bring about your death.

It still hasn't answered your question. Perhaps it won't. You wait and it does eventually give its opinion on the film.

"I. Found. It. Dull."

That surprises a laugh out of you. You doubt very much that it cares about excitement in its films. It's attempting to annoy you. You lean forward and let it peer into your face. "You thought so, eh?"

You see nothing in that mechanical eye. Nothing at all. Rose once saw something in a Dalek. Some recognition, some thought. Rose saw a lot of things...

"You are displeased," the Dalek says.

You stand upright and tuck your hands in your pockets. "With you not liking the film? Oh, well, I am disappointed. It was a Kaled film. It was about your ancestors. I thought you might find it interesting."

It just stares at you for a moment. The lighting in your movie room is a bit dim, enough for the Dalek to have lit up its eye stalk, which means meeting its eye is starting to hurt your eyes.

You look away. It's not like you're going to win a staring contest with it anyway, it doesn't have any eyelids. Instead, your gaze drifts along the Dalek's ruined shell. You're fairly certain that the live thing inside isn't harmed or in any pain… it can be hard to tell with these mutants, which tend to have the smell and texture of moldy cheese boiled in old broccoli juice… but still, it feels a bit odd to just let a damaged prisoner sit around disabled in your TARDIS. You're the Doctor, not the…person who finds the wreck of something and carries it around broken all day. And you're not entirely certain that the Dalek's life support systems are one hundred percent up to snuff after hearing the rat story.

Still, it is a Dalek. It does want you dead. "I found the film dull," it repeats.

"Fine..." You scratch at your stubble. You really must shave soon. "Well, I'm really no closer to finding out what killed your mates. I have found a trail it left behind that I'm going to follow. Which means you're going to be traveling with me a while yet."

Partly because you still don't know where else to put a Dalek. You wish you hadn't used the phrase 'traveling with' though, it's not your new companion. Eugh.

The Dalek's head swings around back and forth. You wonder what the mutant inside is doing when the mechanical outside starts behaving erratically. Is it just pulling levers at random or is there a sort of mental link that triggers spastic gesturing? You don't generally put too much thought into how Daleks work once you've figured out how to stop whatever their latest scheme is. It's not usually like you to not be curious, but you really don't like Daleks. "We will follow the creature?" it says. "We are unarmed! The creature poses a danger!"

You arch an eyebrow. "And what do you suggest?" You think you know what it suggests.

"My weapon systems should be reinstated!"

"Oh, of course."

"Reinstate my weapon systems!"

"No. But you are correct that this could get dangerous. I think we should lay down some house rules. What d'you think?"

It seems to shake itself a little with a loud grinding of gears. Perhaps that's it bristling in umbrage, or perhaps it's only a mechanical error.

You lean against the wall. "You probably know what the rules for you are, no exteriminating, no stealing, no sabotage. Stare mercilessly if you understand."

It understands.

You run your fingers through your hair. "Now, here's what you can expect from me."

You pace back and forth. It tracks your movements. The loud whirring noises the turns of its head generate seem to keep it screaming at you when it's not speaking. "I'm not going to torture you," you say. "You had that right. I'm not going to mistreat you or be cruel. You will not be harmed while you are on this ship unless I am acting in self defense." It may seem pretty well crippled, but you know not to make too many assumptions. You usually win battles of wits, but when it comes to self-destructive murderous hate wits, the odds are probably on the Dalek. "If you behave, you have nothing to fear from me. Don't mistake my mercy for weakness."

"I did not," it says. "You are the Doctor."

In a way that's a compliment, you suppose.

"Good, so you understand that if you do misbehave there will be consequences. Now, there is no one else here. It's just you and me. There's no one else you can use, hurt, terrorize or trick into helping you escape."

"There is the TARDIS."

"Excuse me, what?"

"The TARDIS is alive."

You would not have expected a Dalek to honestly make you laugh twice in one day. Your laughter's confused it, judging by the jerky sweeps of its head.  
You wipe your damp eyes. "I don't like your chances trying to get her to help you escape. I would love to watch you try."

You never know if what you're seeing is real or if your brain is projecting social signals onto a thing that has none, trying to make sense of something that's less like you than a virus. But from the tone it uses when it says "I meant only that you and I are not alone," you could swear you've offended it.

"Yes, true. The TARDIS is alive. Good for you, quick study." You gnaw on the inside of your cheek a little bit. "Now, we're going to go investigate. And it will be dangerous. And I told you I wouldn't be inhumane. That includes not letting you suffer. If you're hurt or you need food or water, I will help you. But I'll do it without giving you any sort of chance to escape so don't try tricking me if you don't need anything. It's not going to do you any good."

"I require nothing," it says, looking away from you.

"Are you sure?" you ask. "If you hide some kind of trouble from me out of pride, it'll only make things harder for you. I'm the Doctor, you know."

Okay, now, if it is in fact possible to offend a Dalek and you're not just imagining things, it is offended. "I am aware that you are the Doctor!"

"Okay then. Well, let's get to it!"

* * *

The Doctor has taken me back to the control room. He is showing me the trail we are following. It is running alongside the path our ship was taking. The creature was following us. I will not tell the Doctor.

We reach the end of the trail.

"Ooh, look at that," the Doctor says. He is viewing a feed of the surroundings of the TARDIS. His eyes are round, indicating emotional excitement. "It's got a little pocket in space. A space pocket. Like a little nest. It's hiding in there."

"We must draw it out," I say.

The Doctor continues to look at the screen. "Thought you were scared of it."

"Daleks feel no fear."

The Doctor looks over his shoulder. He says nothing.

"We must draw it out to see what it is," I say.

"True. How will we do that?" He looks back at the screen. "Maybe some kind of bait..."

"I accept." I see that the Doctor's face displays signs of confusion. "The creature preys on Dalek kind. I am a Dalek. I will lure it out."

"Oh," he says. He rubs his chin and his eyes narrow. "That might work. It might." He emphasizes the word 'might'. "We don't know for sure that it's actively preying on Daleks."

It attacked a Dalek vessel. It destroyed Daleks. It is preying on Daleks. "I will lure out the predator of the Daleks for the good of the Daleks."

"Mm. Well, you can try. Can't guarantee your safety, though."

That does not matter. I do not expect to leave the Doctor's TARDIS alive. "I accept."

The Doctor removes a cable from underneath the control panel. He approaches me and attaches the tether to my grill. He avoids touching my casing with his bare hands. He is filled with vortex energy. It follows him like a cloud. I have been near starvation. The Doctor has limited the amount of energy I can absorb from the TARDIS but there is a great deal of energy. The Doctor has only kept me from taking in enough to initiate repairs.

"Ready?" the Doctor says.

"Yes."

He opens the door behind me. He unlocks my chains. He pulls me along the floor with the tether until I am near the opening. He places his shoe against my casing and pushes me out into space. This is an insult. He has kicked me.

I float in space. I am unarmed. The Doctor watches from within the TARDIS. The creature stirs.

It unfolds into the space before me. It resembles a large plume of smoke. It is approaching me. I am unarmed. I am moving backwards. The Doctor is reeling me into the TARDIS. The creature strikes. It is swift. Damage has been sustained. I am screaming.

"All right, I've got you," the Doctor says. I am inside the TARDIS. I am in pain. I have been injured. The Doctor is present. I am defenseless.

The Doctor turns away from me. He leans out of the door of the TARDIS. "Oi! Smokey!"

We are both going to be killed.

* * *

'Smokey' is a telepath. Her words hit your mind like a freight train. (THE DOCTOR.)

"Yes, that's me," you say.

(I HAVE TRAVELED FAR IN SEARCH OF YOU, DOCTOR.)

"Well, here I am." Behind you, the Dalek has stopped screaming. There was a hole in its shell and you saw tentacles sticking out. You think you may have seen blood. You don't know how you'll feel if it dies on your watch. There'd be no love lost, but you've about had enough of death.

Smokey ripples against the stars. She's beautiful, really. She reminds you of a sheet of black silk. The distorted blue footage captured by the Dalek's eyestalk did not do her justice.

She blinks her enormous yellow eyes at you. (I HAVE FOLLOWED YOUR ENEMIES. I HAVE FLOWN OVER TROOPS OF CYBERMEN AS THEY CROSSED MILES OF FROZEN WASTELAND.) You have no idea why the Cybermen were doing that. Once you're done here you should see what that was all about. (I HAVE SEEN SCORES OF SONTARANS PERISH IN BATTLE. I KNEW I WOULD BE LED TO YOU IN THE END. NOW YOU HAVE COME TO ME.)

"I see," you say. "Why did you attack the Daleks if you were just looking around waiting for them to find me?"

(I NEEDED TO EAT.)

Ah, thus the predators became prey. "Why were you so intent on finding me? Do you need my help?" There are generally two reasons people make such an effort to find you. The other reason is a desire to destroy you. You're hoping that's not the case today.

(THE UNIVERSE ECHOES WITH TALES OF THE DOCTOR.) Her eyes flicker. You imagine a trace of contempt. (BUT I SEE YOU ARE ONLY A MAN.) Ah. Contempt not imagined, then.

You decide not to offer an opinion on that statement. "So you only wanted to meet me. You're not in any sort of distress."

(I AM NOT.)

"You're a predator, then. What do you usually eat?" You keep in mind that she has not yet confirmed not wanting to kill you.

(I FEED ON METAL.)

Ahh. "The Dalekanium. Passing ships have anything to worry about?"

(NO. NOW THAT I HAVE SEEN YOU, I WILL RETURN TO MY HOME.)

That Dalek's not going to be happy that it's gone through all this simply because this alien had a fit of curiosity. It's not having a good day, is it? Ah well.  
You incline your head towards Smokey. "It's been a pleasure to meet you. May I ask where your home is? I've never seen anything like you before."

She beams a set of images into your head. She's a very powerful telepath- the force of her voice is giving you a headache even though you have telepathy of your own. In any case, her home is gorgeous. You tell her so.

(I TAKE MY LEAVE, DOCTOR.)

She's not impressed.

You bow. It's just as well the conversation didn't last long. You close the door of the TARDIS and take her into a time-limbo where no other predators can get at her. Now you can attend to the Dalek.

The shell is lying on its side. You now understand why part of it's gone- Madame Smokey took a bite out of it. The mutant has either crawled or fallen out of the hole and is lying on the floor of the TARDIS with its tentacles splayed out- apart from three that have been partially severed. The injured tentacles are curling and uncurling. The tips are clotted with what must be its blood or something like blood. "I would have tended to you sooner," you say, "but I couldn't risk offending something that powerful." You don't want it to think you were intentionally leaving it to suffer after you just promised not to do that.

It doesn't reply. It probably can't without the mechanics in its casing.

You crouch down and study it. Its single eye is narrowed and glazed over with pain. Unless it has internal injuries, you don't think anything is seriously wrong, but those tentacles are likely sensitive. It's bigger than you realized at first. Tentacles trail out behind it and disappear into the casing.

"She won't be killing any more Daleks," you tell it. Really, though, you're not entirely sure it can hear without mechanical aid either. It doesn't react to your voice.

Right, then. You pull out a first aid kit and a toolbox from underneath your control hub. You approach the mutant, not without reservations. It shrinks from your hand and tries to hide back in its shell.

You decide not to press the issue. For one thing, these mutants tend to look like helpless exploded goo but in the past you've known them to deliver a nasty bite. Where they even keep their teeth you don't know.

Instead you back away with your palms held out. "Easy," you say. "I won't help you unless you want me to."

You go back to the control panel. You should give the Dalek a bit of breathing room, you think. More importantly, you need to check on the TARDIS.

She seems fine, though. You think she's calmer than you are right now. You hear slimy noises. The Dalek mutant is investigating the first-aid kit you left out. You make a mental note to throw the kit away later. Mutant-stink just doesn't come out of anything.

It opens the kit and takes out the supplies. Oh, hm.

You scratch the back of your neck. The tool kit is still right there, too. You hope it doesn't realize it can throw things at you.

So far it's preoccupied with the first aid kit. It has more dexterity than you'd expect from the looks of it, but you suppose it has spent all its life operating complex machinery. It doesn't seem to know what to do with the contents of the kit, though. It's spread them all out on the floor and is just sitting there looking at them. The kit is from Earth in the 1990s so you understand why it would be unfamiliar. Simple bandages and things never really become medically irrelevant, though, so you're not sure why the mutant is so completely at a loss. You suppose it's just better at killing than healing.

It hasn't given any indication that it wants your help now so you turn your attention back to the control panel. The Dalek doesn't seem to be too badly off. It's stopped bleeding. You doubt it needs anything more than a couple of Band-Aids. You do wonder, though, if it won't be able to operate its mechanical home as well now. It's had three of its limbs shortened. The chances of its species even accepting it back now are a bit on the thin side, you believe.

A prickle runs down your back. Your hair stands on end and your skin shudders and crawls. Someone's altered the time vortex, creating several fixed points. Someone nearby. And from the sheer strength of this feeling, lots of those fixed points involve you.

You turn, slowly. The mutant has crawled back to its shell. Some of its limbs snake into the shell. Its eye is fixed on you.

"I will accept your aid," it says, using the speakers in the casing. It has no idea what it's just done. Not that changes to the timeline are necessarily bad, but, well...

The Dalek repeats what it said. You've been standing and staring at it for a while, you realize. You're trembling.

"Right, of course," you say. You go closer.

You'll be very angry if this is an attempt at a trap.


	4. Interrogation

Well, you were right, it really only needed Band-Aids. It also needed its casing uprighted, which was harder to accomplish than it may sound because you can't touch the Dalekanium with your bare skin or the Dalek machinery will come roaring to life and kill you.

You managed it, though. You're the Doctor, after all. Couldn't quite manage getting your hands to not stink like mutant, but that'll wear off.

Now it's just sort of sitting there all opened up with its tentacles waving in midair. They do that sometimes, you've noticed. They undulate. You don't know why Daleks do that. You are noticing more and more things you don't know about them.

You lean against the control panel and watch it for a moment. It just sits there, waving its tentacles.

Martha once talked you into stopping in a pet store in a mall. You took her through it and showed her all the exotic futuristic pets that had been imported from alien worlds, cautioning her that not all pet importation was ethical (she already knew that).

And then you were watching a very pretty fish enjoying its tank, and marveling at the fact that it could spend its life in such a small space, knowing nothing else, and you noticed Martha in the corner of her eye. She was watching you. In fact, she was evaluating you and the fish. She had dragged you in here to begin with, you guessed, because she thought you needed a pet.

You would never actually do this, it'd be too cruel, but you picture for a moment what she might do if you went and popped in on her for a visit, right now, and invited her to see your 'pet' and of course she'd walk in and see the Dalek. She watched them enslave Earth once so she probably would be about as thrilled as, well, as you would be if someone pranked you by surprising you with a Dalek, so you wouldn't ever really do it, but still.

Its tentacles are still waving around in midair. You wonder if they're automatically reaching for levers, knobs, dials, whatever's accessible on the inside of that suit. It must have been in there its entire life.

You could ask it. Why, you could ask it anything. It's not going to go anywhere.

You feel something as old and familiar as the impulse to be somewhere else- the thrill of a secret. Something you don't know. You're a bit repulsed by the Dalek still, and probably will never not be repulsed by them, but you think that just compounds the thrill, really. Because you're not repulsed often. That's new too.

You fetch a chair and position it in conversation's reach of the Dalek. You sit down.

It watches you.

You can't have it here on the TARDIS for much longer. The TARDIS will take matters into her own hands eventually, for one thing. For another, you are playing dice every second the Dalek is this close to Vortex energy. But you still don't know where else to put it, really. You'll think of something.

It watches you. You discern no trace of body language or expression, none that you can read anyway. It's twitching one tentacle. You don't know why.

"Hello," you say. "Let's talk about you for a bit."

"I prefer not to." You imagine that it would sneer if it had a visible mouth. Nothing actually shows on what it has for the rudiments of a face.

"Why are you doing that?" You point to the tentacle that's spasming in midair.

It doesn't reply. You can't read anything from its single eye.

It continues to twitch. "When you twitch that way. Why is that?"

It does not respond. You wait.

Finally it says: "Insufficient data."

Is it just being obstinate? You've never heard a Dalek say 'insufficient data' if it was not going out of its mind in confusion. But surely it's aware of what it's doing.

"You're twitching."

"Insufficient data."

You imagine what it might be like to be so defiled and mutated that you're unaware of your own physical movements. You shudder. "Right then, never mind. So I've been wondering, are you Daleks incapable of feeling anything pleasant? Is it just all hate, all the time? You'll never know joy, happiness or contentment? Just hate?"

"When I complete an objective I have satisfaction," it tells you.

"Satisfaction, eh? I suppose that's meant to be a reward. It's not much of one, really."

"I require nothing more."

"But you can have a cup of tea and get satisfaction." You rub your chin. "Well, I can, at any rate- you have to slaughter a village for it, I suppose. So, on that note, I've always wondered, what happens when everyone's Daleks? You've done it, you've killed all the not-Daleks, everything's yours, everything's a Dalek, now what? What else do you do? What do you get when you win? Do you set to exterminating each other, is that it? Or do you just decide, well, that was a good run, let's all give up and die now? Do you breed and breed with no purpose? Do you consume the available resources in the universe until you begin to die off and leave everything empty and void? Do you not care? Are you stupid? I'm honestly asking, are all Daleks stupid, is that it?"

It declines to answer.

"Or do you plan to evolve into something that's not a Dalek anymore? I wouldn't want to be a Dalek."

"You are not a Dalek! You are the Doctor!"

You're aware of that. "But I don't think anyone would want to be a Dalek. Do you want to be a Dalek? Really, truly? If I said to you, you can stop now, you can be a…I don't know, a human, a Silurian, a Slitheen even- anything at all that's not a Dalek, really, would you say 'yes, this has worked very well so far and I'll go on being an unloved mutant blob inside a metal dome that can feel pain but can't feel pleasure?' I know you have to tell me you would, but would you really? I mean, even Cybermen, they can't be happy or even satisfied, but from what I can tell they're not bothered about anything and you're always bothered. I can't tell what's worse! No emotions at all, or only bad ones."

It curls and uncurls its tentacles. They're really much longer than you'd expect.

"You don't even have space to move in that thing! Look at you! You've outgrown it and you can't get a bigger one! You're not even on the level of a hermit crab!"

"I do not need more space!"

"Have you always been in that shell? Were you put in it as soon as you were alive? Were you ever without it?"

"No!"

"No what?"

"I was never without it! I have always been armed! All Daleks are armed!"

You can't imagine having the same face your whole life, let alone being stuck in that horrible rubbish bin thing 24/7. "You're not even a little claustrophobic?"

"I am not! There would be no purpose!"

You consider that the Dalek has very little mobility without the suit, so perhaps you're looking at this the wrong way. And it and the shell were engineered for one another, so it probably isn't really cramped inside, it just gives that impression. However- "Why doesn't the Emperor have one of those, then? He's just out there. He's got room to breathe."

"He is the Emperor!"

Maybe it really is just stupid. "All right. Here's a question, where did you come from? You, specifically. Are you one of those nasty corpse Daleks, were you created by Davros, a holdout from the Time War, a randomly generated paradox, something from a parallel world, or… what?"

It flails about. "I am Dalek?" Are you imagining that questioning lilt? If you aren't, you hypothesize that it doesn't know whether to answer.

You can assume that the Dalek is bound to tell you anything that will make its race seem 'better' and withhold anything that's unflattering or could give an enemy and advantage in combat, ergo, if it's confused, it doesn't know in what category to put its origins. Daleks are often a bit squirrelly about where they come from, even to themselves, you've noticed.

It looks so like a beached sea creature. "All right, an easier question," you say. "Can you swim?"

"This is pointless." Now you are definitely imagining that it sounds relieved because you don't think it has that wide of an emotional range. You really need a good human to talk to.

"Maybe to you it's pontless. I derive enjoyment from it- well, I do usually, you're not particularly good at conversation, but I digress. So many things seem pointless to you because you can't enjoy anything. All you do is kill."

"Daleks are efficient. We do not interact socially for enjoyment and spend time that accomplishes no purpose." It waves its tentacles slowly. You are beginning to interpret its motions as indicating agitation or relaxation. You're not entirely sure you're correct to do so, you may be seeing meaningless spasms. You can't help but think of it as snide and preening, talking about how you're wasteful for enjoying yourself and all, and you're projecting that onto how it looks.

On the other hand, if it is feeling snide and you pretend it isn't, you could make an unwise choice in dealing with it. It's a puzzle. This would be much easier if Daleks had faces. "But for us, social connection is worth the time taken."

"Daleks have no such delusions."

All right, it's snide. You know it's snide. It's really snide. That's not just you.

You exhale and look at the ceiling. You have a sensation that the TARDIS is murmuring in one of the dimensions that's just slightly beyond even TIme Lord comprehension. Likely having a bit of a chuckle at you and your pointless attempt to chat with a Dalek. You can't blame her.

"Delusions, eh?" you mutter. "All right, so if social enjoyment is a delusion... you don't enjoy any of this talk we're having?"

"I do not."

"You don't enjoy insulting me?"

It pauses for just a second. "No."

"Oh, yes you do, you're practically purring! You love it! You love telling me how much better you are!" You hear the disgust and venom in yourself. You know there are humans who'd say that by showing how much you despise the Dalek you are descending to its level. You don't understand that. You would have to go an extremely, unimaginably long way to reach its level. "Now, Dalek, if you have any imagination, think about the bitter enjoyment you feel when you're nasty to me. Try, just for a second, to imagine how it could feel to not be cold and bitter. To be warm. To enjoy another being for its own sake, not because you're mistreating it!"

It blinks slowly. "Daleks do not imagine," it drawls.

You chew on the inside of your cheek. "You are a terrible guest."

"I am not a guest. I am a prisoner."

"Terrible prisoner, then. All right, never mind enjoyment." You lean back in your chair and run your fingers through your hair.

It draws itself into the suit and closes up. It turns the mechanical head back and forth, testing it out, you suppose.

"How do you manage the suit then? Is it controlled with your tentacles or are you psychokinetic?"

It stares at you. "That information is not for the Doctor."

"It isn't, mm? So are all of your answers to these questions according to some sort of protocol?"

"Yes."

"Do you make your own choices?"

"I follow protocol."

"Do you have individual thought?"

The mechanical eye has no emotion, of course, but even so it somehow seems a tad more expressive than the eye of the live mutant.

"No," it says.

It's been in there its whole life. Perhaps the shell's an extension of itself. Perhaps in some way, the consciousness of the Dalek is more connected to the cold Dalekanium than to the living mutant.

The hairs on the back of your neck are standing up. You shake yourself.

"No? But there's no one here to instruct you. Even if you have a standard operating procedure, surely you're deciding for yourself how to follow it."

"That is not relevant," it says.

"What's not relevant?"

"Your question."

"I didn't ask a question, I made an observation. All right, a question then, are you truly incapable of individual thought?"

It trembles. It looks away from you and then back.

"Do you not know how to answer? Isn't this a yes or no question?" Maybe it doesn't know whether the answer falls into acceptable 'boast' territory or whether it needs to dodge. "Is this question not covered by your protocol, is that why you won't answer? Can't answer anything not in protocol? Who makes protocol?"

"The commanders."

You tap your foot. "You look like every other Dalek. Sound like every other Dalek. But it was only you on that space station. Another Dalek wouldn't remember what you remember. Another Dalek wouldn't have spent those long, lonely years chasing down rats in the darkness… or were they not lonely? Do you get anything out of being with your own kind? You can't be friends with them. You're obviously not one to chat."

"These questions are foolish!"

"Then you're not out anything by answering! I'm honestly curious. Was there a protocol to chase and devour vermin if stranded or was that all you?"

It rattles a bit. You keep going when you see it won't make any other reply.

"Again, you're not like the Cybermen, featureless masses with one data-handler as the controller. Your kind gives promotions, doesn't it? Your kind has ranks. How same are you really? There have been Daleks with names. Not many, but some. I once knew a Dalek with an actual imagination. A real one, not one that was just used to figure out how to kill. He was killed by the rest of you, of course. Can't have anything nice. So was he a mutant among mutants or are all of you individuals? Of a sort, anyway. Individuals beneath the sameness."

"Things cannot be both different and the same!"

"But what would happen to you if you were promoted?"

"I will not be promoted! I will soon be killed!"

You roll your eyes. "But what if you were promoted? If you were placed into the Cult of Skaro right now, what would happen? You're not really a robot, you're alive. You can't be reprogrammed or upgraded." Or maybe it can. You suppose you're not really sure on that front. "Who would name you? Would you choose a name for yourself? Would your ruler name you? You don't have parents to do it."

It rattles and whips its head around. "I have no name! I need none! I am Dalek!"

"But how do you tell each other apart, for heaven's sake? You're identical!"

"I do not need to be told apart! I am a soldier! All soldiers carry the same duties!"

"And if you go up a grade, you get your shell painted or something, so others know you're an officer. And all officers of your level also carry the same duties, and so on, and so forth. I see. Do you get anything for being an officer? Are there perks? Is is something you strive for? Do you try to get promoted? Do you hope for it? Do you have aspirations? Are you promoted? I've been assuming you are, but maybe you're created for certain castes, I wouldn't know. You keep on mutating and changing things anyway."

"I will not answer. I will not give the Doctor information!"

"Humans freely express that they have feelings, but they insist they would never commit murder. Then some do kill. Daleks love murder, but deny having emotions, do some have them anyway? Would you even know the difference or are you too brainwashed? Does it really even matter if you're still out there killing things in the end?"

"I am not human."

"I know you're not. It was just an example." You run your fingers through your hair. You can see the tips of its tentacles through the hole in its shell. The tentacles tap up and down on the metal like restless fingers.

You think of its loveless life, its simple and shackled mind, its hideous and useless body, its lifelong mobile prison. Sometimes, you cannot pity them no matter how pathetic they are. Sometimes you're simply too hurt and angry to pity them, and sometimes you're someone who can turn off pity. Sometimes you think you will never pity them again.

But sometimes you do have it in you to pity them. Even knowing what they've done and will do, what they will continue to do until every last one of them is dead.

It is motionless, facing an empty corner of the room.

"Do Daleks get tired?" you ask.

It moves its head. Its mechanics sound sluggish and worn down. "No. We do not."

Shocker. "Sounds like you could use a hit off the old oil can."

"I require vortex energy for repairs."

"Yeah, 'course you do."

You get up and pace. You're beginning to have an idea. You scrub at your hair with your fingers. You don't like this idea.

"Look here, Dalek." It takes this literally and stares at you. "Your limbs have been severed, but you look like you've got loads more where that came from-"

"They will grow back!"

"Oh. Well then, no harm done. Is there anything about you that is necessary to your military operations? Will more people live if you never return to active duty?"

"I am a soldier! All soldiers perform the same duties!"

"So if I keep you, if I kill you, if you never fight again, they will make a new one just like you, and nothing will be different."

"Correct!"

It won't tell you how ranks work in its society, but it readily volunteers that its existence is pointless. All right then. "So if you do go home, if you rejoin the ranks, then the universe is no worse off, provided you don't run into any innocent bystanders on the way home."

You groan between clenched teeth and turn on your heel to pace some more. The thought of knowingly setting it free to do more murder galls you.  
But you can't think of it like that. You haven't witnessed it hurting or killing anyone, it has only intended to do it, and you can't lock someone up for life based on intent, can you? But what if there's nothing else there but intent?

There's no way to keep it locked up that's one hundred percent safe. If you trap it and it escapes and goes on a rampage, people will die needlessly. If it serves in a war, there would have been one in its place to fight regardless. And if you kill it, you have committed a murder. It's defenseless. You can't truly win here.

"You're just a drone, just a worker bee. The only thing that sets you apart from any other Dalek is your personal history." It's the only Dalek that was abandoned on the space station, got caught in a fire, ran into you and survived two attacks by an interdimensional metivore.

It's the only Dalek alive that has a reason not to hate the Doctor.

You've helped it. You've saved it. If it dies without communicating with the rest of its species ever again, what you've done for it stops here. It probably will anyway, it's showed no sign of being affected by anything you've said. But...

You turn to face it. "Do you want to live?"

"Yes," it says.

"Do you want to live in captivity?"

"No."

"I could find a secure facility and keep you locked up forever. You'd be researched. Humanely. No one would hurt you. You'd live."

"I would rather die than aid the allies of the Doctor!"

"So what do you want?"

"I demand safe return to Skaro!"

"You do, eh? What if I said yes?"

"It would be a trick!"

"Make up your mind!" You roll your eyes. "If you do return to your home, will you tell the other Daleks about what's happened to you?"

"I will report! I will make a full report! I will tell them everything I have seen! I will tell them everything I know about the Doctor and the TARDIS!"

It hasn't seen anything that isn't common knowledge. Still, you marvel that it's telling you it will report on you when you not being angry with it is the only thing giving it a chance to return home. It really must be stupid. "Will you tell them I helped you?"

It takes a second to reply. "Yes! I will make a full report!"

There is a very wide berth of empty space around Skaro (because everyone's fled or been exterminated), enough that if you drop it off, it will run into more Daleks before it runs into an innocent bystander, and enough space you won't be caught if you look sharp. If you dump the Dalek out into space and teleport away as soon as it begins to repair itself, you can get away before its weapons are back online, it being as battered as it is. You'll need the TARDIS's cooperation. You ask her quietly and she agrees, if it means the thing will be gone.

Right then.

* * *

The Doctor has ceased to speak to me. He is controlling the TARDIS. He has spoken of keeping me captive for research. He has made this my sentence.  
The TARDIS moves through time.

I will record the way it moves. One day I will break free of captivity. I will report what I have seen. I will wait. I can wait as long as is necessary.  
The TARDIS ceases to move. The doors open. I see nothing but space. The Doctor has changed his mind. He will abandon me to die after all.

The Doctor tows me to the doors.

"The Doctor says he does not kill," I say. "The Doctor lies."

"Shut up, you're a git," he says.

He pushes me out of the ship.

He pushes me with his bare hands.

The time energy in one of the Doctor's cells is enough to power a full warship and crew. I am

over

load

ed

* * *

Should it be screaming like that?

You can't stay around to check if its repairs go well, if they do go well you'll be shot for your trouble. If, on the other hand, the Dalek dies, it will be an accident- you haven't murdered it, and that's all you need really. You shut the doors and the TARDIS fires up.

After all that, it might very well be executed by its own people for failing to kill you. There are very few things in the universe that aren't preferable to being a Dalek...

* * *

I can see into time. Time is immense. Time is forever. Time. Time.

I can no longer see time. I am fully charged. I am repaired.

"Exterminate!"

Weapons fire successfully. I am a Dalek! I am a soldier!

I hear sound. The sound comes through time and space itself. It is the sound of the Destroyer of Worlds in his TARDIS.

The TARDIS is leaving. It is too late to fire.

Through the echo of the TARDIS I see stars.

They are the stars of Skaro.

The Doctor has returned me and given me energy for repairs.

Why?

"Whyyy?"

Why?

"Why?!"

Why!

(Why?!)

It is the web. I must report.

The web is silent. They say nothing as I convey what has occurred. The web has never fallen silent for me to speak before this moment. I am a drone.

I finish speaking. The web is no longer silent.

(Why?)

(The Doctor is mad!)

The web is screaming.

(The Doctor is cunning and he has outwitted us!)

(The Doctor has not outwitted us!)

(But we do not understand! I do not understand!) It is the one who claims we are outwitted.

(You are only a drone! It is not your job to scheme!)

The Doctor asked me if I would convey what he did. He wanted me to report. It is some trick!

(What does he gain?)

(The Doctor has viewed Dalek secrets!)

(He will not continue to outwit us. We will change. We are mighty. We will become better than the Doctor.) It is the one who claims we are outwitted.

(We have always been supreme! Treason!)

(The Doctor has done this because it is strange and we will find it strange. He is strange. He wishes us to think him strange.)

(Explain!)

I cannot explain!

(Explain!)

(Why did you not exterminate him? You were in range!)

(The drone was crippled and held fast by the Doctor!)

(Treason!)

I am not accused. This one who has committed treason is the one who has dared to imply that we are not superior to the Doctor. He is silent. He knows he is accused and guilty. He is…

What- is- it- to- fear?

(What is this?!)

(Explain!)

I am only repeating what nonsense the Doctor forced me to listen to!

(You will not repeat the nonsense of the Doctor unless instructed! It is poison! He hates us!)

(He hates us with the white fire!)

(He hates us as if he were us!)

(He had the power to exterminate our soldier and he has set him free so that all Daleks will know his power and the knowledge of his power will gall us!)

(THERE HAS STILL BEEN TREASON! THIS HAS NOT BEEN DEALT WITH!)

(The Doctor is weak! He is too weak to kill!)

(But he has killed us! He has killed many of us!)

(Find the traitor and kill him!)

Many are screaming.

(He has done this to taunt us!)

(EXTERMINATE HIM!)

I cannot answer every one.

One has gone.

(The traitor has been killed.)

There are still many.

(He has kicked us!)

(EXTERMINATE!)

(He has imprisoned us!)

(ANNIHILATE!)

(He has insulted us!)

(DESTROY!)

(He has put his Time Lord hands on us!)

(ATTACK!)

(He dares save us?)

(KILL!)

(HE DARES SAVE THE DALEKS?)

(KILL!)

(HE DARES GIVE US PITY?)

(KILL!)

(WE WILL DESTROY HIM!)

I cannot answer. The web screams. I cannot hear every one.

(You) (Drone) (The last of the Time Lords will be dust!) (Drone, report) (You) (Annihilate!) (Drone) (Attack!) (Here) (I will speak with) (WHERE IS THE DOCTOR?) (No, I)

(I am a special operations commander-) (Destroy!) (I am an officer-) (Exterminate!) (I am the Dalek Supreme-)

(I AM THE EMPEROR DALEK. I WILL SPEAK TO THE DRONE. FETCH HIM.)

* * *

You have a vague feeling you're being discussed. Well, you probably are somewhere, you're the Doctor, after all.

The TARDIS feels quiet, with only her relieved humming and blipping and beeping and the sound of your own breathing. It's nice to have the mechanical screeching gone.

Still, it'll be too quiet before long.

"How about a trip to Earth?" you ask the TARDIS. "Somewhere joyous, with loving families. How d'you feel about a trip to Disney World? How about you pick the decade?"

She likes that idea. Of course, you'll have to shave first.

* * *

A/N: Doctor, you've just won the Super Not Getting Shot By Daleks Bowl! What are you going to do next? 'I'm going to Disney World!' Okay then, have fun.

Anyway, I think this is a good place to end it. You decide what the Emperor Dalek has to say (and whether or not it ends in extermination).

This was my first DW fic, so I apologize for any canonical inconsistencies. I tried my best to look up everything relevant and double-check that I wasn't writing something comically inaccurate, but fifty years of continuity is a lot, so I might have overlooked something.

Or it could be time's fault. Yes, let's blame the fickle and confusing nature of time.


End file.
